


GoTC: Get Yourself a Real Hat

by farad



Series: GoTC (Originally titled "Fluctuations") [3]
Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: "Ghosts of the Confederacy" series, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-07
Updated: 2010-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-10 23:47:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The result of that chat on the mesa . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	GoTC: Get Yourself a Real Hat

**Author's Note:**

> part of the series that brings Chris, Buck, and Vin together.
> 
> Thanks for my betas, Charlotte, Dail, and all the wonderful people at DnF who let me play.

_BUCK:  
Hey, pard. We got him.  
CHRIS:  
We did it.  
BUCK:  
Mm-hmm.  
JD:  
Buck...  
BUCK:  
Hey, kid... do me a favor. Get yourself a real hat. Never did get to spend any time with those fine ladies.  
NATHAN:  
You will, but first let's get you stitched up, Buck._

from "Ghosts of the Confederacy"  
(transcript taken from Zennerd's excellent website: http://www.geocities.com/zennerd/pilot1.html)

 

"Gimme me a hand here!" Nathan yelled, "Let's get him into the surgery!"

Vin knelt on one side, watching at Nathan pressed the cloth tightly against Buck's chest. It was already covered with blood, more coming.

Damn Anderson. Damn the kid – JD, who Buck had been trying to protect.

And damn Buck. If he died, Vin would – well, he's be upset, but he'd survive. Losing people was something he'd learned to deal with young.

Chris though . . .

He watched the other man now, saw the rigid control that just barely contained his worry. Panic, actually. He didn't see it, but he could feel it, just under the surface.

JD was there, his face pale, his eyes huge. His hands were trembling as he took over holding the bandage so that Nathan and Josiah, the larger men, could gather Buck's legs and lift him.

Buck wasn't so much heavy as long, and moving him was an exercise in working together. By the time they made it up the hill to the covered area Nathan had set up for treatment, they were all breathing hard.

Not that that stopped Nathan from spewing out orders.

Vin was glad though, to be doing something. Watching Chris hovering over Buck was . . . . .

He didn't know what it was, really. There was a level at which he found it sweet and amusing; he had known that the two were close – would take a blind man, and one who was also deaf and asleep, not to see it. Especially Buck's affection for Chris. But Chris cared for Buck as well, and that, perhaps, was what confused Vin.

That wasn't right either, he thought as he pumped the crank on the well, drawing up a bucket of water. Of course Chris cared for Buck. But – how much?

And wasn't that the heart of it? They both said that they wanted another time with Vin. And he wanted it, too.

Even if it had hurt, it hadn't been nearly as painful as the other times – and they'd actually been concerned with his pleasure as well. That had been unexpected.

It didn't matter really, he decided as he poured water from one bucket to the other. He wasn't going to be in these parts long enough for it to mean anything other than what it was – sex. Good, wonderful, actually, but just sex. These two might be willing to share with him for another round, but he'd be gone soon enough after that.

Hell, he'd expected to be gone by now, one way or another. But he'd managed – or Chris had managed, more likely, to cheat Death a little longer.

It was coming, though, a bullet or the noose, and he didn't have time to be jumping around in beds. Besides, Buck was going to be okay, Vin knew that already. The wound was long but it wasn't deep – his own slash wound had been a lot deeper and he'd tended to it himself, hadn't had people getting him water or stitching him up. He'd lived. Buck would, too.

As he returned with the water, letting Rain direct him to put it near the fire so they could heat it, he found himself watching the far corner, where Nathan was hovering over Buck and Chris was hovering over Nathan.

He stepped back, resting against a support beam out of the way, hiding in shadow. He wasn't sure why – he had enough that he could be doing.

But Chris was anxious and worried and Vin wondered just how bad off Chris would be if Buck didn't recover.

"He's gonna be all right, Chris," Nathan said, "it's not deep enough to hit anything vital, just gonna bleed for a while, until I get it sewed up." He was reaching for one of the big needles he used, and Vin flinched, feeling a little uneasy. "Be easier without having to move around people in my way," Nathan continued, his tone a little short.

Chris sighed, but backed away. "You sure he's gonna be all right?" he asked.

"Hell, Chris," Buck's own words came weakly from the table, and Vin knew he was smiling, "you seen worse 'n this. You go on and let Nathan do his work."

"Buck," Chris started forward again, his hands rubbing along the sides of his hips nervously, brushing against his guns, "you all right? I mean – "

"Hurts like a bastard," Buck said amiably, "but I reckon I'll live. Now you get on outta here – there's more cleaning up to be done. Don't be wasting Nathan's time – Junior? I know you're here, boy," he called.

Vin jerked, surprised, even as he pushed off the wall and headed toward the others.

"There you are," Buck smiled up at him, looking pale and sweaty but alive. "Do me a favor and get Chris outta here – he's making Nathan nervous and I don't need any shaking hands stitching me up. Want this scar to be nice and purty for the ladies to worry about."

Vin shook his head, amused despite himself. "Doubt ya need it," he said. "Seems like ya got the right touch already."

Buck chuckled at that, the sound still weak, but not strained. Vin took a minute and looked at the wound, which, while still bleeding, wasn't bleeding as much. He didn't see any bone, a sure sign that it wasn't deep.

"If you two will get out of my light," Nathan started, but Vin was already moving.

"Come on, Chris," he said quietly, reaching out toward the other man, but stopping before he made contact.

Chris looked at him, his eyes flashing with a sort of anger. Vin almost stepped back, but didn't; he just met the glare straight on, waiting.

After a second, Chris huffed and turned. "Yell if you need me," he said shortly to Nathan. "Buck, don't do anything stupid."

He stalked out of the clinic, his spurs ringing in his wake. Vin stood, uncertain, until Buck said softly, "Go on. He'll be all right."

As if to validate his words, Chris called from yards away, "Vin? You coming?" The tone was hard, but not angry.

With a quick touch to Buck's shoulder, Vin followed.

Chris was still moving, but slower now. There were more people in his way and despite his own agitation, he was making an effort to be polite – or at least not rude.

Vin nodded to several as well, unaware he was speaking in their language until he found Chris slowing and staring at him.

"Been around a lot of different tribes, hunting and all," he shrugged. "Easier to talk to 'em when you know a little about 'em."

Chris shook his head, picking up speed again.

They ended up where Vin expected, with the remaining members of the 'ghosts'. Most of the ones who could ride had ridden out as quickly as possible, and Vin suspected that they would be roaming the countryside for a while, getting themselves into similar trouble to what they had here. But without a cannon or a leader, they were in smaller groups which would make it easier to catch them.

Corcoran, the man who had joined them in front of the cannon before Ezra had come back for them, was working to field dress the several of the wounded men. He glanced up as they approached, his face lined with dirt and sweat.

"Your man?" he asked, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm.

"Should live," Chris growled, and Vin knew all the anger was here now, at the living men who had followed the dead man who had almost killed Buck.

Corcoran felt the anger as well, and he tensed even where he crouched on the ground. The man he had been helping shifted with a slight moan, trying to sit up.

"I'm sorry I didn't stop the Colonel sooner," he said, meeting Chris' gaze. Vin had to respect him for that; took a lot of courage to stare into the face of an angry lion.

Chris was glaring at him, but after a few seconds, even he realized the sincerity in the man's tone. " Damned lucky Buck wasn't hurt worse," he snarled, but his fists loosened a little and his back unwound. "What are you planning to do?" he asked.

Corcoran took a deep breath, glancing around and the bodies littering the base of the hill. "Some of these men aren't fit to travel. I would ask that when your healer has the time – "

"Nathan will do what he can. But you'll have to ask the people who live here about staying. That ain't my place."

Corcoran nodded. "I understand." He glanced to Vin then back to Chris. "Is there water?"

Before Chris could answer, one of the women of the tribe approached, carrying a bucket and a ladle. She set it on the ground near Corcoran, extending the ladle. "Tastanagi says your men who are too hurt to leave may stay in the shelter there." She pointed to one of the closer adobe structures; the cannon had taken out one wall but the roof was still mostly intact, which would offer some protection from the mid-day sun. "We will share what food we have, but your men must leave as soon as they are able."

"Thank you," Corcoran tried to smile at her, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

She nodded, then turned, calling out to several others in their language. Two other women and an older boy appeared, and the four of them started to move the men who could be moved into the shelter.

Corcoran stood up, looking around for a moment. "I'd like to bury the Colonel and the others."

"They'd probably appreciate that," Chris said dryly, but Vin noticed that anger was dropping. Chris was just looking tired now.

Corcoran nodded, then turned to help with his men, leaving Chris and Vin to stare at the destruction.

Farther up the hillside, Vin noticed the tribe's chief doing the same thing. For the first time since they'd met the man, Tastanagi looked old, his shoulders stooped, and Vin thought he might be thinking of his son who had died leading them up the hill.

He felt Chris shift beside him, knew the other man was toying with the knife he was wearing in his gun belt. Amala's knife. Chris sighed, but his back stiffened again.

"Be back," he said, striding off toward the old man.

Vin watched them talk for a few minutes, then pitched in to help move the wounded. Corcoran nodded his thanks, his eyes wary but tired. Vin wondered how a man with any intelligence – which Corcoran seemed to have – could follow after someone as crazy as Anderson had been.

But then he remembered the hotel room several days ago – seemed like years now, when he had followed Chris and Buck. Crazy came in all kinda ways.

He wasn't sure how long it took, but eventually, they had moved all the living into the shelter, situating them as well as they could. Vin wiped the sweat from his own brow, not really surprised to look up and find Chris gone and the chief now with his arms around Amala's widow.

He looked around, trying to spot the distinctive black against the desert backdrop, but failing.

"He went back up the hill," Corcoran said quietly, stopping nearby and pointing with his chin.

Vin nodded; Chris was headed back to check on Buck. Well, no real surprise there.

He took a step, then stopped. What was he thinking? Why should he be going after Larabee? If the man wanted him there, he'd have called him.

If the man wanted him at all, he'd have . . . .

He took off his hat, running his fingers through his hair. It was matted with sweat and he really wanted to find a stream and wash off. Really needed to start thinking about moving on.

Really needed to stop worrying about what Chris and Buck thought of him.

"He seems like a good man," Corcoran said quietly. "Hard, but fair. You been with him long?"

Vin looked up the hill towards the building where he knew Chris was. "No," he said with a sigh. It just seemed like forever.

As if on cue, Chris stepped back out into view. Vin didn't think he was imagining that the man's eyes looked right down to him.

He knew it when Chris nodded, then stepped off the small platform and started down the hill. Several paces into it, he stopped, canting his head to one side, then turning in that direction and moving off.

"Really?" Corcoran said, and he smiled slightly. "You seem to know each other well."

"Yeah," Vin agreed without thinking about it. He was already moving to follow.

Chris was well ahead of him, but he didn't worry – he knew where they were going.

The horses, their horses, were in a corral near a small adobe structure that housed their tack as well. As he stepped through the doorway out of the bright afternoon light, he was momentarily blinded – enough so that he barely registered the presence behind him before he was grabbed by the shoulders.

He knew it was Chris – the smell of his cigar, of him, the jingle of his spurs as he moved, the sheer presence of the man.

But that didn't stop his instinctive reaction to resist and to fight back. He jerked, twisting, so that he slammed into the wall harder than Chris probably intended. It knocked the air from him, giving Chris a momentary advantage.

Which was how Vin ended up with Chris' tongue halfway down his throat, one of the man's hands holding his head in place while the other griped his ass so hard that it hurt.

He pushed weakly at Chris' chest, trying to put a little space between them, trying to catch some air, but Chris pressed him back harder against the wall. He struggled more then, fear rising on waves of memory, and his arms tensed, bracing Chris away.

"Need you," Chris growled, breaking away long enough for them both to catch a breath. "Now."

Vin shoved harder this time, successful in pushing Chris away. "Ferget to ask?" he snapped, gasping. "Or did ya just ignore me in the hotel?"

"You're damned hard to ignore," Chris said, pushing back in, his hand snagging behind Vin's head. "And you want it, too."

To prove his point, Chris' other hand dropped to the junction of Vin's legs, easily finding the erection there.

Vin made a soft noise before he could stop himself, barely able to keep from rubbing into the pressure on his cock.

Chris chuckled even has his lips once more found Vin's. "Ain't got time to do it right – but quick and dirty's better than not at all."

He was pressing harder now, and Vin arched into it despite himself. He responded with no thought, opening to Chris' demand, sucking on Chris' tongue in tempo with the strokes to his groin.

Chris chuckled again, the sound shivering through Vin's body, then pulled away. "You're as easy as Buck is – no wonder the two of you –

"You gonna talk or fuck?" Vin asked, reaching to open his pants. He didn't want to talk, didn't want to hear Chris talk, more like it. If this was about calming Chris down, taking off the post-battle edge and distracting him from Buck's hurt, well, they could damned well do that without Chris making him feel cheap.

Hell, he could do that well enough on his own.

But as he pulled his pants open, touching himself, Chris reached up and caught him under the chin, drawing his face back up. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the hut and he could see Chris' eyes clearly.

"Sorry," the other man said softly, as if understanding. The kiss that followed was softer, sweetly building to heat, and when they finally broke apart, Chris' hand was still on Vin's cheek. "I'm being a bull again?"

Vin blinked, realizing his eyes were closed, and met the other man's gaze. What he saw there startled him – scared him, really. Concern, as if Chris really cared. He swallowed, found his throat too dry despite all the kissing.

"Vin?" Chris questioned, a slight edge of something in his own voice.

"It's all right," Vin tried to say, but it came out choked and unclear.

"Buck's right," Chris said softly, brushing up against Vin's chest and slipping one arm round his slender waist. "You are too good for me."

Before Vin could respond, before he could even think of how to respond, Chris' other hand found his erection and took it. The strokes were long and slow, but building in speed.

"You don't – " Vin started, even as his eyes closed and his own hands caught Chris' upper arms, clinging.

"I want to," Chris whispered against Vin's cheek. "Let me."

He did. He couldn't have stopped him, his own body suddenly raging with the need for release.

It didn't take much, the pressure and motion perfect, the smell and taste of Chris evoking memories of their first – only – time together.

His cry as he came was lost in the depths of Chris' mouth, his own arms now wrapped around Chris' shoulders, holding him so close that Chris caught as much of the eruption as he did. As the euphoria passed, he found himself leaning on Chris, his head on the man's chest.

"You all right?" The words brushed over Vin's ear, blowing his hair slightly as Chris' nose nuzzled him.

The awareness of what he was doing, the fear of what Chris would think of him, spurred him to pull himself together. But as he gathered himself, drawing his arms from around Chris' neck and tensing to pull away, Chris' arm tightened around him, holding him close.

"You ain't gotta run," he said softly. "I kinda like ya like this."

It was a temptation; he liked that way they fit together, liked the strange way he felt when he was with Chris. And with Buck. They were different, very different, but the feeling was the same.

But it wasn't going to last. As soon as this was done, he'd be on his way.

Besides, Chris wasn't really interested in him, he was worried about Buck. He wanted Buck.

That made it easier to twist free, pulling at his pants. His shirt was sticky from his climax, but he ignored it, stuffing it down to cover his diminishing erection. He was a little rougher than he might usually have been, but he didn't notice.

Until Chris caught his wrist, stopping him. "Vin?"

Vin tugged, not looking up, but Chris held, his grip tightening.

"You seem more scared of me now than you were earlier." He leaned closer, his nose once more slipping into Vin's hair.

For an instant, Vin stood, wanting it, the touch, the closeness, the affection.

But he knew better. Wasn't real, no use pretending.

He knew what was though, and he dropped easily to his knees. Chris still held his wrist, but he let his free hand cover Chris' groin, the bulge in the rough fabric unmistakable. Above him, Chris hissed, and Vin's wrist was freed.

He made quick work of the buttons, but it was slower going as he tried to extricate the hard flesh from the cloth trap. Chris leaned forward, bracing his hands on the wall of the building. Vin could feel his eyes, though, knew that he wanted to watch.

He didn't think about it much, didn't care really. He'd liked doing this before, up to the point that Chris had choked him – but he could forgive that.

He ignored the way his hand shook as he stroked the long cock, sliding back the foreskin. Chris was dripping with want, and with no hesitation, Vin held out his tongue to catch the long thread of it that was falling to the ground.

Chris groaned, a low sound that Vin barely heard; the taste was bitter, and Vin knew the other man hadn't taken his pleasure since the hotel room several days ago. A part of him wondered that Chris and Buck hadn't gotten up to something that last night together, or even since they'd been here. After all, Chris had known they could come here – surely he and Buck had done so.

But apparently not. The fluid was laced with the salt of days of waiting, thick and heavy on his tongue.

As was the throbbing knob of the head as he guided it past his lips and teeth, into his mouth.

He felt the tension in the other man's body, the jerk of him forcing himself to keep still. He knew it wouldn't last long – Chris had all sorts of self-control, he had discovered that through the long days here, in the battle against Anderson and his men.

But not in sex, Vin knew, had already discovered. When Chris wanted it, he wanted it right now. And his way.

He opened his throat, actually liking the glide of the long, thick heft of the man as it lay siege to him.

The taste, and the smell, were strong, several days of sweat and fear and stress layered in the natural odor of the man. It was pungent, musky, but familiar; even when his nose was in the damp hairs at the root, it wasn't repugnant.

He wasn't surprised when Chris' fingers threaded into his hair, but he tensed, knowing it would be a battle not to choke.

The fingers in his hair spread to hold his head, as he expected. For an instant, he felt the stir of panic, learned from too many times in this same situation.

But just before it spewed past his control, Chris' hand relaxed, then drifted away to stroke over Vin's arm. It traveled along slowly but gently to where Vin's hand rested on Chris' hip, in a vain hope of keeping control from there. Chris' fingers twined with his, drawing his hand away – but also keeping Chris' hand off of him.

Giving him control.

It was different and so at odds with what he knew – or thought he knew of the man that he froze.

Chris groaned again, the vibration thrumming through his body, through his cock as it lay in Vin's mouth. It tickled a little, and Vin would have smiled if he could.

Instead, as Chris squeezed his hand, he hollowed his cheeks and moved forward, taking him deep.

Chris tried to thrust, an instinct, Vin knew, but Vin's other hand was still on his hip and even though he couldn't truly stop him, Chris honored the boundary, stopping when the pressure of Vin's arm was strong.

He held his breath as the wide head hit the back of his throat before the shaft bent enough to let it slide down. The thick oozing was continuous now, a sign that Chris was close. Vin drew back a little, the spongy tip bouncing off the roof of his mouth and leaving a splotch of salty fluid there that clung, creating a strange itch that made him want to wipe it off.

But he was more distracted with the painful grip on his hand as Chris controlled his need to thrust by redirecting to that point of contact. It eased as Vin relaxed again, inhaling through his mouth and over the pulsing cock. He actually heard Chris whimper just before he tried to thrust once more. Vin held him steady, but swirled his tongue around the long shaft as he sucked his way back to the base.

The contractions were fast and erratic, and the only warning he had as Chris came. The ejaculate flooded his throat, splattering back to fill what little space there was in his mouth, and he found himself unable to breathe as his throat was clogged. He swallowed as quickly as he could, but it wasn't fast enough; it dribbled over his lips, spilling down his chin in trails that splattered to his thighs and knees.

Chris' legs were trembling, and he had to move to keep his balance. As he staggered, he pulled back, and Vin found himself gasping for air around the slowly diminishing cock still in his mouth.

His hand was released as well, as Chris now needed both hands on the wall to hold himself up. It dropped, numb, onto Vin's thigh, and he was peripherally aware that it was his right hand – his gun hand.

He could swallow more easily now, the erection still big in his mouth and still spouting, but more weakly.

He loosened his hold on Chris' hip, letting his fingers trail over the rough fabric to the bare skin at the opening. The hair there was fine, as soft and cool as the hair in Chris' head, and he enjoyed touching it for a few seconds, before encircling the base of the Chris' cock.

The orgasm was fading, just little twitches of the loosening skin. He let his tongue lap lightly at the sensitive head, felt the full-body shudder he got in response as that caress spiraled around the line between pleasure and pain. Too much, he knew, and he sucked a little instead, drawing out the last vestiges of release, before letting his lips slip off.

He sat back, shaking his hand as it started to tingle with returning feeling. He used his shirtsleeve to wipe at his mouth, hoping it wasn't going to be too obvious what they'd been up to. Last thing they needed was for people to be talking about –

"You all right?" Chris voice was hoarse, and when Vin looked up, he found Chris looking down at him, green eyes glittering in the shadows.

He swallowed again, edging to one side before he climbed back to his feet. His own pants were still open, even though everything was tucked away, and he was hardly aware of buttoning them up.

Chris pushed himself up as well, but his body wasn't ready yet, and he ended up turning and stepping back to rest against the wall. His hands trembled as he tried to dress himself, and he stopped once to wipe them down the sides of his pants, jostling his guns.

"You all right?" Vin countered, and he found that he was smiling slightly.

Chris buttoned his top button, bracing his arms against the wall as if to push up. But before he did, he turned to look at Vin, and his own expression softened into a grin.

"Damn sight better now," he said, his voice still hoarse but a little better. "Thanks."

Vin shrugged, bending down to pick up his hat. He dusted it off against his thigh, before reaching up to put it back on.

But Chris did move then, catching his wrist – again. He pulled, hard enough to get Vin to step toward him. At the same time, he got his feet under him and came up, so that when they both stopped, they were standing chest to chest, Chris holding Vin by the upper arm.

He was just enough taller than Vin that Vin found himself looking up into his eyes, surprised.

Chris' smile was still soft. "Better this time?"

Vin almost laughed, but he managed to keep it to a low chuckle. "Yeah," he agreed, the word soft. "Thanks fer that."

He'd expected Chris to brighten, but instead, the smile faced to a sort of blankness. "You don't thank me for not hurting you," he said quietly, and the hand not holding Vin's arm came up to cup Vin's cheek. "Buck's right – ain't supposed to hurt, unless you want it to. I get a little carried away. Would have today if you hadn't stopped me."

Vin shook his head, pulling away from the touch. It was nice – too nice. "Weren't me," he said, hating the sound of want in his voice. "Was Buck."

He jerked, pulling free of Chris' hold; Chris hadn't been holding tightly, but the suddenness of the movement pulled against Vin's skin, burning.

"What the hell – " Chris grabbed for him but missed as he stepped out of reach, pulling his hat on his head and ignoring the pain. "Vin!" he called, but Vin was headed toward the door.

"Vin!" Chris called again. "Wait!"

He almost didn't – shouldn't, he knew. This whole thing was pointless.

But Chris was behind him, close, and while he didn't try to touch him, his voice held a sort of pleading that made Vin wince.

"Vin, please."

He took a deep breath, but slowed just outside the doorway, blinking in the sunlight. He didn't look at Chris, instead letting his gaze fall to the horses, looking for Peso.

As if sensing him, the big gelding looked up, catching his eye. Peso tossed his head, impatient; he'd been still too long, and Vin knew he'd have trouble keeping him in hand whenever he rode out of here.

"Buck wasn't here," Chris started, but Vin snorted and started to move again. "All right, just wait," the other man said with irritation. "Yes, what happened today scared me. Bad." The last word was a whisper, but Vin heard the emotion in it.

Chris shifted, edging a little closer, but still not touching. He did lift a hand to his own hat, tugging it back up onto his head and setting the brim to shade his eyes. "Don't know what I'd do if I lost him."

Vin nodded, accepting it for the truth he knew already.

"But that don't mean I used you," he said just as quietly. "Not here, not back at the hotel. Don't know what it is between us, Vin – hell, I don't know what it is between me and Buck, either. I've known him a long time, been through – well, a lot together. He's been with me since before – " The words cut off then, and despite himself, Vin turned, wondering.

But Chris was shaking his head, his eyes closed. When he opened them, he, too, was looking at the horses.

"I wanted you – want you. Want Buck, too. Together's good, all three of us, but just the two of us is good, too. And if you and Buck want each other . . . "

He tilted his head to one side, and Vin grinned despite himself. "You'll live with it," he said softly. "Might not like it, but you'll live with it."

Chris glanced at him then, a sort of glower in his eyes. But after a few seconds, his features lightened. "If it'll keep you around for a while, yeah, I'll live with it."

Vin chuckled, looking away. "Seems like you're gonna have more'n enough to keep you busy, taking care of Buck and all."

Chris grinned. "Could stand some help with that, too." He looked over at Vin again, then tentatively lifted his hand, dropping it on Vin's shoulder. "Stay around for a while," he said, the teasing gone from his voice.

Vin met his gaze, liking the feel of the hand on his shoulder. "Well, seems like we oughta get Buck back to town in one piece."

Chris nodded. "Least we can do," he agreed. "After all, we're gonna go back right now and tell him what he missed."

Vin laughed, shaking his head. "Remind me not to piss you off," he said as with one final squeeze, Chris' hand dropped back to his side and he started off.

Chris looked back over his shoulder, still smiling. "How else we gonna make him feel better? You watch and see how quickly he's on his feet."

Vin snorted, but started off after him. Somehow, he suspected Chris just might be right.


End file.
